


And Now We'll Rest

by Three_Oaks



Category: Mission: Impossible (Movies)
Genre: And a little bit of angst, Benji's family, Fake Dating, First Kiss, Fluff, Getting Together, M/M, Nightmares
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-13
Updated: 2020-05-20
Packaged: 2021-02-27 20:27:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 11,592
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22701697
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Three_Oaks/pseuds/Three_Oaks
Summary: Benji Dunn knows what his dream holidays are. A few weeks, his family’s countryside home, and maybe a few aunts and cousins to liven up the place. But when Ethan Hunt breaks in, being forced to pretend to be dating the man he definitely isn’t in love with soon turns them into a nightmare.
Relationships: Benji Dunn/Ethan Hunt
Comments: 53
Kudos: 76





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Phenixy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Phenixy/gifts).



> A gift for the Peggster gift exchange.  
> Happy Birthday, Simon Pegg!  
> My eternal thanks to why-am-i-pluto for the organization.  
> I hope you enjoy!

A muffled thud broke the silence of the quiet night. It was quiet like it can only be in the countryside, far removed from the constant buzz of cars and of the sounds of people hurrying past each other in an unending, invisible race. That night -like all other night, at least until that thud- had been as empty as empty can be, barely disturbed by the sound of the wind; sometimes, Benji felt like the wind even increased the air of calmness that permeated this place. Because if you could hear the wind, that was only because there was no other sound to cover it up. No screams, no shouts. No bullets ricocheting, just a few inches away, too close to his face. No half-desperate pleas over the comms, Ethan really need this now, fully-desperate typing on a broken keyboard. Not even the beat of his own heart, so loud and fast that he fears it'll just give up and stop, at some point. 

This was why he always came there, after missions. Not always for long. Sometimes, for just a day or two, even though it meant double as much in airplanes and trains, and then busses and taxi. It meant peace, to him. 

The house itself was a stately old thing, all creaking staircases and worn-out carpets with either broken bits of Crayola, tea stains or lost glasses, depending on the median age of the current residents. It had been passed in his family for ages, getting bombed, then reconstructed, then flooded and finally reconstructed, hopefully for the last time. If not for the fact that it was at the arse end of Shropshire, it would be a valuable edifice: it was even rumored to be the last resting place of a lost Van Gogh, even though Benji, his cousins and many generations of bored teenagers had spent long summer hours looking for it in vain. Not that it stopped him from opening a few old cabinets, from time to time. You never know. Officially, it was in the ownership of great-aunt Muriel, the female equivalent of an 19th-century confirmed bachelor -a phrase whose implication had become clearer when he'd reached adulthood himself. She'd probably be offended to be described as stately, like the house, but the fact was that she fit so well in that mass of old furniture and lively family gatherings that she could as well be the familiar spirit of the place. She'd lived there most of her adult life; she claimed that the calm was the perfect place to write. But as old age caught up even to the best ones, and she'd moved into an assisted living flat one town over just as he'd become a field agent. It had, for all of his life, been the background of innumerable family gathering and summer holidays. He'd gotten drunk for the first time just below the pear tree, and puked on the cherubim statue one of Aunt Muriel's girlfriend had brought back from Carrara. After his mother's death, they'd come up here with his cousins, and again after his father had passed, both time spending long hours walking through the field, unable to speak. It was where they celebrated birthdays and anniversaries, and where they mourned. And now, it was where he came to rest. 

If he had been alone, he'd have gotten up to investigate: you could never be too prudent, especially in his line of work. But his family had decided to join him, for once, and had arrived in dispersed order over the last few days. There was Muriel, two of his aunts and uncles, at least eight cousins, some of whom had brought their own young family along. Someone had probably hit one of the many decorative trinkets on their way to the bathroom. No reason to be worried. He turned around, hit his pillow a few times, and tried to fall back to sleep. 

It had been nearly a week since he had arrived, in the middle of the night, so exhausted he'd slept on the sofa instead of making the bed. He'd been in the hospital for two weeks after Kashmir, and he hadn't been able to wait to go home. As if being there would let him forget. 

It had, to some degree, worked. Running around the house, constantly catching up and blabbering nonsense with his family had been a remarkable way to block out what had happened -that is, until it didn't. Just yesterday, he'd had to leave the dining table because he'd started feeling Lane's noose around his throat, again. Kneeling on the rug in his room, his breath shuddering out of him as he desperately tried to control it, he'd closed so tight he saw stars and dug his nails into his palms until the pain was the only thing he could feel, just praying for it to stop. He knew he'd get better, he always did, in the end; but it didn't stop him from wishing... 

Wishing what, exactly? 

He shouldn't complain so much. He wasn't the one who'd gotten it the worst, not by far. 

How were the others? Ilsa had been bruised and battered in their fight against Lane, but she'd always been strong. Stronger than him. Luther was a mystery in his own right, always there with desperately needed help at the perfect moment. But even Luther had been shaken up by the events. 

And Ethan. 

Ethan, who'd so very nearly died. 

Who probably blamed himself for what had happened. 

Who'd saved his life, and so many others, once again. 

And who was probably alone somewhere, waiting to heal. 

That was it; what he wished. He knew it was stupid, and that it wouldn't change anything. Worse, it was maybe selfish. Just a pointless fantasy. But he still wished Ethan were here, so he could hug him. Until his panic subsided, or until he'd told him how grateful, and proud, he was. He didn't know. 

And as he imagined taking Ethan in his arms, the warmth of his skin through his clothes and the feel of his hair under his fingers, he fell asleep again. 

A scream pierced the heavy air. Benji jumped to his feet, grabbed his gun from its designated spot in the bedside table, and ran downstairs. He wasn't scared, not yet. He was just focused, so intensely that it left nothing else, like he was on mission. Or at least like he tried to be. The voice was Muriel; she was speaking now, loudly, with an edge of fear. There was someone in the house. 

Benji quietened his footsteps as he reached the last corner, his gun drawn. Had someone tracked him there? Was there only one intruder? Was his family in danger? 

"I don't care for your explanations at all, young man! I'm calling the police right now!" 

He had to get Muriel safe first. With a shuddering breath, he rounded the corner, pointing his gun at the dark shape ahead of him, finger on the trigger. 

It was Ethan. 

"Fuck! I nearly..." He barely caught himself, quickly hiding the gun behind his back. 

Muriel was brandishing a silver candelabra that looked to be about as heavy as it was old, and seemed on the brink of pummeling Ethan with it. And given how much rage she was radiating, he wouldn't bet on Ethan's chances. 

"I heard a noise and came downstairs to check, I was scared one of the little ones had hurt themselves, I know it's ridiculous but you can never be too careful, you know children..." after a good breath, she went on, raising the candelabra above her head "And there was a man there! All in black, gave me such a fright! We need to call-" 

"It's alright, I know him! Don't worry," he interrupted her. Given her shocked air, it might not have been as reassuring as he hoped it to be. 

"Benji, why on earth are you inviting friends over in the middle of the night? Without telling us?" 

"Aunt Muriel, it's just a misunderstanding. I'm sure you're tired. Can we talk about this tomorrow?" He desperately needed to talk to Ethan alone. Was there an emergency? Were they in danger?  
Ethan, thankfully, had the good grace of looking embarrassed. And unhurt, for which he was overwhelmingly relieved.  
"Don't you dare..." 

"Benji? Muriel? What's happening?" Shit. Now his cousins were awake. Jenny was coming down the stairs, Michael just behind her. And a few seconds later, his whole family, in various state of nighttime dishevelment, was assembled. 

"And who the hell is that?" 

"Is that a burglar?" 

"Benji knows him, he says. So you should really better explain!" Muriel said, looking slightly accusatory.

They were waiting to listen to his explanation for the presence of a strange man in their ancestral home. An explanation he hadn't invented yet. 

Think. Ethan, quite obviously, had broken in. But he couldn't say that without them assuming that he was a criminal, or revealing his true profession, which was out of the question. There was also the matter of him showing up in the middle of the night, which excluded him being someone hired to fix something, explaining how he had the key. 

He took a good look at their startled faces. Ethan was gesturing vaguely, probably trying to convey a wordless (and well deserved) apology for the current mess. The silence dragged on. 

Pressure. He was good with it. He could come up with something. 

"Boyfriend! He's my boyfriend."

It came out at least a few tones higher than his usual speaking voice, for reason he didn't want to dwell on. 

Ethan's face, for one instant, showed true, unadulterated surprise. Or was it dismay? Well, that hurt. But no time to think of that. One eye blink later, Ethan had settled into a mildly embarrassed, entirely charming smile. God, he was good at that. And how was his family taking it? 

Some frowning, but no one calling him a liar yet. Good. "He didn't break in, obviously, I gave him a key!" 

Benji kicked himself. Way to go, really. Could he have put that in an even more suspect way? 

"Did we really all get up because Benji's boyfriend came over?" 

"Yes, right! I'm going back to bed." 

"Why are you here? Did anything happen?" Benji whispered to Ethan, trying to hide his concern. 

"Everything's fine. I just wanted to see you," Ethan answered, loud enough for the others to hear. Which meant it was just a nice excuse, and not the truth. 

Well, that didn't explain much, but at least it excluded them being in impending danger. 

And, one after the other, his aunts and cousins trickled back upstairs, some catching a look at Ethan behind their shoulder. Muriel lingered back, examining Ethan intensely until they were the only one left. Benji had seen him look more comfortable while being interrogated by mob enforcers, although he was very sure he was the only one who had noticed. His facade was nearly perfect. But there was still tension in his shoulder, at the corners of his mouth. It made Benji want to do something stupid. Like hugging him. 

"Well, you certainly pick them handsome, my dear," Muriel said, patting Ethan's cheek. "Let's just talk for a little bit, shall we?" 

They sat down in the parlour. Benji and Ethan were side by side on the patined Chesterfield sofa, not daring to rest their back. He felt strangely similar to when Muriel had caught him smoking one of her cigars when he was twelve. He was an adult man, damn it. What if his so-far-never-mentioned boyfriend decided to make an impromptu visit in the middle of the night a cause a generalized panic among the flock of his family? 

Muriel sat across from them, the candelabra still within hand's reach on the coffee table between them. She was as stern as a schoolmistress on inspection day. Muriel didn't get angry. Muriel, on the other hand, had the uncanny ability to radiate her disapproval, which more often than not made him wish that she'd just scream at him. 

With a sight, she stood and poured herself a glass of whiskey from the crystal tumbler on the table in the corner. After a good gulp, she gestured at them with her glass, in a wordless offer which they both politely refused. 

"So. Tell me. Name and profession, and known allergies"

"Aunt Muriel, do you really think it's necessary to..." 

"Yes. What kind of house do you think this is?" She drank some whiskey and continued, "And Benji, love, I just want to get to know your companion. Would you really deny an old lady?" Just for effect, she batted her eyes. 

She'd been the first person he'd come out to as a teenager. Even before he knew that the roommates were girlfriend, her aura of eccentricity had made her feel like a safe haven. She'd hugged him, told him that she loved him and so did his parents. Made him feel welcomed, and understood. It was stupid -they weren't a couple, and never would be, but he suddenly wanted Muriel to like Ethan so badly that it made him feel like his insides had twisted into a knot. 

Benji sighted. 

"Of course not, Aunt Muriel." 

The only matter now was to convince Muriel that they were indeed a couple. Without coordinating stories. And, Benji wished desperately, without betraying how much he wished that they actually were. What had he done to deserve this? 

"Tell me about yourself"

"My name is Ethan, I'm an engineer," he said with an easy smile. "I don't suffer from any allergies, as far as I know." 

"Good, good. What kind of engineer?" 

"I work at the Virginia Department of Transportation. I studied mechanical engineering." 

"Hm. Why?" 

Was Muriel going to follow every question by another, even more pointed one? 

"I wanted to work in aeronautics, at first," he said, looking slightly sheepish. "Working for the NASA was my childhood dream." 

Really? Benji tried very hard not to look too surprised. He wanted to ask about it so badly that he had to bite his tongue: was Ethan actually a covert space nerd? And when, and why had he given it up? 

"So, tell me. How did you meet my wonderful nephew there?" 

Benji waited on the answer with bated breath. He remembered their first meeting to the second, or so he liked to think. The great Ethan Hunt, all the way in the lower floors of the IMF, had needed his help. He wasn't sure he'd recovered from the shock yet. It was before he'd realized how much more Ethan was -kinder, braver- than he'd thought possible, before he'd learned to read his moods from the way he tensed his shoulders, before he'd realized how sad his smile sometimes was. Before he'd loved him. He wondered -what did Ethan remember of their first meeting? 

"We contracted his company to do some IT work for us and... Benji was amazing. No matter what went wrong, he could always fix it." He laughed a little. "I bothered him with all of the problems I could think of for weeks before I found the courage to ask him out for a coffee." 

What a sweet story. Just a pity that it was a lie. 

But he could work with that. 

"I couldn't believe you were so bad with computers! I was starting to wonder if I should slip you a flyer for a remedial class!" Laughing, with a warm smile and just a point of fond irritation. A story that had been repeated again and again between them, an inside joke. He squeezed Ethan's hand to make the point. 

Ethan entwined his fingers in Benji's and turned to him. He stopped breathing for an instant. 

At least, he didn't have to fake the sickly sweet lovelorn look of the fool in love. Which hopefully would only impress Ethan with his acting skills and not make him realize how out of his depth he actually was. Finger crossed. 

"Well, you seem to have made an impression. I can assure you my nephew doesn't always have such glassy eyes." 

Ethan laughed. He felt his cheek redden. 

"And what was your life like, before you made a fool out of yourself for my nephew's sake?" 

"I was born in upstate New York, but we moved to Wisconsin when I was a few years old. My parents had a farm." 

He knew most of Ethan's story, but hearing it told to Muriel made the situation seem even more surreal. The atmosphere in the room had turned, Benji could feel it in the pit of his stomach. Ethan was, for some reason, telling the truth. It was so, so much more dangerous. Because it felt real.

"Hm. Did you like being a farm boy?" 

"It was... wonderful, when I was a child. There was so much to do - I loved running after my father and try to help him, even before I could lift a shovel." 

Benji chuckled, despite himself. He could see him perfectly: Ethan, barely taller than three apples, running around and creating mischief. Things really hadn't changed much. 

"But as I grew older, I started to notice how hard it was for my parents. There was never... No matter how hard they worked, there was never enough money. " 

Why Ethan was opening up now, even though he'd never mentioned it before, Benji didn't know. It was so rare for him to speak of his own problems, his own pain - Benji desperately wished it hadn't been a forced confession to a woman he'd never met before, for the sake of a fake relationship with his work colleague. Benji had never prodded him about his childhood. Now, he wished he had. 

"It got worse after my father died." 

You could feel the edge of pain in Ethan's voice, which just about broke Benji's heart. 

"How old were you?" 

"Thirteen." 

"And yet, you managed to escape to college?" 

"I enlisted after high school and studied under the GI bill." 

"Why? Was it just the money?" 

Her mouth was slightly pursed. She didn't have much love for the military as an institution, and barely more for soldiers. She'd travelled enough and seen enough wars to know what some men thought their right to do once they had a gun in their hand, and regarded anyone involved in them with wariness. Benji wanted to jump up and defend Ethan.

"I thought that I could help." 

In anyone else's mouth, it would have sounded pompous, or foolish. But Ethan's voice had none of that. It was simple. Sincere, and true. But Benji knew, knew how far that statement went. It wasn't just in the military, when he'd been barely more than a child, with hopes and dreams to do some good; it was what drove Ethan, now, for the past 30 years and probably until he died. 

"And could you?" Muriel laughed a little, wryly. Not because she didn't believe Ethan, Benji thought, but because she knew how useful good intentions were, once you were faced with reality. 

"Sometimes." 

Benji thought of all the people he'd seen Ethan rescue, himself very much included. And all the one he hadn't been able to save. Again, Ethan never complained, never bothered anyone with how he felt, but Benji knew how painful it was for him, every time. Because no matter how hard he tried, it would never be enough to save everyone. 

Muriel huffed with something like approval. At least, Ethan's answers seemed to have convinced her that he wasn't a murderous burglar. She finished her whiskey in one gulp and set the glass down on the table, with enough force to make him wonder how many glasses she'd broken in her youth. 

"And I hope you're not the type to hide a wife and children," she said, half-jokingly but still eyeing the candelabra with insistence. 

"My wife died five years ago. We didn't have any children." 

Again, the truth, or as close as possible.

Benji winced. Clearly, this wasn't the answer that Muriel was expecting. 

"I'm very sorry to hear that," she said, with regret. 

Knowing that Julia was alive, and happy with her husband and her vocation had been an unexpected relief. He couldn't imagine what Ethan had been through. One more thing that he'd have to ask, once they finally were alone. He couldn't wait for it, even if it was just to ask Ethan what the hell he was doing, but at the same time it seemed like a terrifying perspective. Hearing Ethan speaking with Muriel, in the house he'd practically grown up in was surreal enough on its own, but the way in which she'd strong armed him into talking about himself felt exceedingly intrusive. 

There it was: Ethan, his life, in more details that he'd ever dared to ask. Why hadn't he lied?

Muriel rose and gently patted Ethan on the shoulder. At the very least, the interrogation was over, and Benji breathed with relief. 

"Well, you seem like a wonderful young man. I won't keep you up any longer. You'll share a room, of course?" 

Of course. 

His room, its beautiful wood paneling and 19th-century secretary, its view on the garden. 

And its one bed.


	2. Chapter 2

Benji led Ethan upstairs.

He shut and locked the door, without a word. The room was relatively bare, with only an old cast iron bed frame, a secretary, and a closet that looked like it might collapse any day -and no chairs. 

Ethan didn't seem to want to assume he could sit on the bed, and Benji wasn't sure he'd be able to cope with sitting shoulder to shoulder to Ethan, right then. So they stood; Benji, resting is back against the window frame in a vain attempt to seem more relaxed than he was, and Ethan next to the bed, straight as a soldier at review and tense as a drawstring.

He had to ask, now, didn't he?

"What are you doing here, Ethan?"

"I... I'm sorry. I didn't know your family was there." And, a breath later, a little quieter, "I didn't mean to embarrass you."

"Ah, don't worry about that, they've seen me do worse. If anything, you're the one who should be embarrassed. I'm surprised they bought it, really."

"What do you mean?"

"Nothing, nothing!” No need to bother Ethan. “Was there an emergency? Is anyone hurt? Or did you just..." Just what? Want to see Benji? To be with someone, after the hell that Kashmir had been? He couldn't finish that sentence.

And Ethan couldn't answer. He opened his mouth, as if he hoped that it might help him find the right words to explain what had brought him to travel across half the world and into the most boringly quiet countryside possible. To explain what had brought him to Benji. 

Benji thought he could see something in Ethan's eyes, as if he were on the top of a cliff, about to jump off; he'd seen it enough -sometimes on actual cliffs- to recognize that edge of fear, just before there is no turning back possible anymore. Although he couldn't for the life of him understand what would cause Ethan to be afraid. 

And, before he could say anything, whatever he'd seen in Ethan's eyes disappeared.

"There's a drive that need to be decrypted. We found it at Lane's hideout. I don't want to hand it over to the CIA, and you're the one most familiar with Lane anyway." Ethan's voice was so devoid of emotions it was monotonous. Blank.

Benji felt the meaning of Ethan's word sink to the pit of his stomach. Of course it was only professional. What else could it be?

"Sure. Of course. Great. Do you need me to start right now?" He knew he sounded like a robot, but better that than let Ethan notice how ridiculously disappointed he was.

"No, it's not that urgent. Tomorrow is fine." At least Ethan was as stilted as he was.

"Erm... Do you want to go to sleep, then? Bathroom's through there. It's not very modern, but at least it has hot water. Do you need anything? I have extra toothbrushes, pajamas -the kind with buttons, I'm sorry- but I can go look for something else if you..."

"I'm fine, thank you," Ethan answered, thankfully cutting his rambling. He went into the bathroom, closing the door behind him. When he heard the water run, Benji sat down on the bed. He finally let the sadness wash over him, praying he'd be able to push it back down before Ethan came back out. He was being overly dramatic, he knew, but the burn of the tears at the corner of his eyes didn't hurt any less for it. He gave up, slipped under the covers and buried his face in the pillow.

Benji didn't look up when Ethan came back into the bedroom. He heard Ethan opening his bag, slipping on a t-shirt, even the faint sound of water droplets falling out of his hair onto the floor, but he kept his eyes firmly shut against the soft fabric of his pillowcase. Then, the cracking of the floor, the soft sound of footsteps on a carpet - and a low thud. Benji raised his head.

Ethan was lying on the floor, his knees folded up to his chest and one arm under his head.

"What are you doing?"

"Going to sleep."

"On the floor?"

"It's fine." And, after a breath, "I've had worse."

"There's no way you're going to sleep on the floor. And what would my family think, if they came in?"

"You locked the door."

"Sure, but..."

"Really, it's fine."

"Can I get you a blanket, at least?"

"Yeah, that would be nice."

Benji got up, carefully stepped around Ethan to get a blanket and a pillow from the closet. After some fumbling with the pillowcase, he handed them to Ethan and went back to bed.

Was it wrong to say he was relieved? Being in physical proximity to him right now seemed too much, no matter how selfish it made him feel. Easier to remember his place, that way. Benji pressed his eyelids together, trying hard to fall asleep as fast as possible. Come morning, he'd have a look at that drive, decrypt it, and then this whole mess would be over.

"I'm sorry for disturbing your holidays," Ethan said.

Benji didn't answer.

***************************************************************************

Benji woke up with a jolt. It was early, too early for the first rays of sun to breach through the heavy curtains or for the birds to sing. 

Tension griped his stomach like a vice; for an instant, he struggled to remember why. 

Ethan.

He turned too fast in his bed, tangling himself in the sheets. Ethan was still there, asleep on the floor; his eyes were moving in jerks below his eyelids, his right hand clasping the fraying woolen blanket so hard that his knuckles were white. Nothing in his breath let think of a peaceful sleep.

Benji wanted to reach out and shake him gently, pull him out of whatever nightmare he was drowning in. He knew them too well himself. 

Or would Ethan resent him for waking him up? Maybe he just wanted to be left alone. 

No. That was the worst with the nightmare, the bursts of absolute fear. Waking up alone, screaming, or slowly trying to find himself when panic was all he could remember ever feeling. Ethan didn't deserve that.

He got out of the bed, kneeled on the frayed carpet and gently reached for Ethan's shoulder.

Ethan woke up with a gasp, slapped Benji's hand away and backed away until his back hit the closet with a bang.

"Ethan! It's OK, you're safe!"

"Benji... He's... he's..."

What had he been dreaming about?

"I'm there. I'm with you," he said softly.

Hands raised as peacefully as he could, he slowly moved towards Ethan. 

"I'm alright, I really..."

Ethan clutched him into a tight hug. Too surprised to speak, Benji put his arms around Ethan's chest, still warm from sleep and heaving hard. Ethan's face was buried into his neck. He could feel his breath tickling his throat, too fast. 

"It's OK, it's OK, don't worry, I've got you, we're safe..." he mumbled into Ethan's ear, a litany of soft promises he wasn't even sure Ethan could understand, right now. He raised his hand and started stroking his soft black hair, never stopping whispering to him. He didn't know what he was saying, or if it was reaching Ethan, but little by little his breath quietened and his grip softened. 

"I'm sorry," Ethan said against Benji's neck, his arms still firmly clasped around Benji.

Benji untangled himself from his embrace and pulled away. Because he was scared that if he didn’t let go now, he’d never be able to.

"It's OK, don't worry. I get those too," he said, clapping Ethan's shoulder reassuringly. Like a good friend.

Ethan clutched his arms around his own chest.

"Did I wake you up?"

"No, no, not at all!"

Ethan closed his eyes, wiping his face with his hands. He looked exhausted.

"I think I need a bit of air."

He got up to his feet, quickly dressed and headed for the door. Should he offer to come with him? No. Ethan would certainly ask if he wanted him to, wouldn't he?

"Ethan! Erm... maybe I could take a look at that drive already."

"Sure. Thank you," he said, his eyes firmly avoiding Benji's.

He pulled it out of his pocket, handed it to Benji and left the room without looking back.

***************************************************************************

After a good cup of tea, Benji went back to his room, dressed and sat on his bed with his laptop on his knees. Time to break that drive, get whatever info was on it and be done with it.

As soon as he'd plugged it in, he knew something was wrong.

It was too easy.

No elaborate encryption, no autodeletion feature that would be activated at the smallest misstep; no biometric safety to hack, not even anything more than a password. A twelve characters password.

It was definitely Lane's, but given his track record, there was not a chance in hell he kept anything of importance on it. He couldn't understand why that would compel Ethan to travel all the way to Shropshire. Or was it a trap? Was there something that he had missed, waiting to destroy his computer and hack his system?

After nearly an hour of second-guessing himself and trying every trick he could think of, he came to the same conclusion he'd reached within 30 seconds: there was nothing that needed his skills on this drive. Any idiot with a bit of time could open it, and while Ethan wasn't a computer expert, he was certain that it was well within his capacity.

Then why on earth was he there?

Just when he was pondering whether to open the drive and not force Ethan to stay there any longer, a low knock on the door interrupted him. He slammed his computer shut.

Ethan came in, his cheeks still red from the early morning's cold. His eyes were clearer, his breath steady. He looked much better.

"I heard your family setting up for breakfast when I came back. Should we join them?"

"Well, I guess we'll have to, at some point," Benji sighted. 

"Let me just put on a shirt."

He reached to his bag and pulled his t-shirt off. Benji turned away, forcefully opened the curtains, suddenly finding the ivy on his window still highly interesting. 

"Did you... did you get any work done on the drive?"

"Oh, yes! But..."

"What?"

"Nothing. I just need a bit more time, that's all."

"Of course. Should we go?" Ethan said with something like relief, fastening the last button of his shirt and crossing the room towards the door.

"Wait, Ethan!"

He stopped in his tracks, immediately turning to Benji with eyebrows raised in a silent question. God, what had he done to deserve having Ethan listening to him like that? 

"Your collar, it's..." Benji said, reaching to Ethan's neck and straightening the offending piece of clothing out. Aunt Muriel was a stickler for correct attire.

He fussed with the collar a little, trying to make it as symmetric as possible. No need to give her an excuse to chew Ethan out.

How long did it take him to realize what he was doing? A good thirty second, at least. Thirty very long seconds with his hands around Ethan's neck, standing so close he could feel his breath. So close he could kiss him. 

Ethan was slightly shorter than he was, he noticed distractedly. He could raise his hand to his cheek, tilt his chin upwards. Would Ethan close his eyes? Wait for him to press their lips together?

He knew he had to stop himself. He was being an awful friend, an even worse colleague. But he couldn't move away.

Ethan reached up to touch Benji's hand. It was barely a brush, soft fingertips against his skin. It felt like a burn. He jerked his hands away from Ethan's throat and took two step back, too fast, without looking. Stumbled on the secretary, nearly sending the delicate vase on it to the floor. 

What had he been thinking?

Ethan didn't say anything, to his relief. Maybe they could just forget about this, pretend it had never happened?. When he dared to look at him, half terrified to see the face of the man he loved (dear God, did he really have it that bad?) contorted in anger or worse, in disgust, he found it instead full of emotions he couldn't decipher. 

Had he been about to slap Benji's hand away? 

Or take it into his own?

That was enough. Stupid brain, even stupider heart. He laughed awkwardly, desperate for anything to break the tension.

"You're all good. Should we go?"

Please, let him run from this room. 

"Sure," Ethan said, opening the door for him. Always the gentleman.

And if Ethan's smile wasn't as warm as it usually was, if it had a shade of disappointment, that was just Benji reading too much into things, wasn't it?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The plot thickens! I thought I could finish this in one chapter, but it was starting to get very long so I decided to post this already. I hope you'll enjoy! Thank you so much for the wonderful comments, they all made my day.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The numbers of chapters keeps growing, and I'm not getting any faster. Sorry for the delay! I'm not entirely satisfied with this, but I hope you'll enjoy it nevertheless.

Benji and Ethan walked downstairs. Breakfast was taken in the kitchen, with everyone speaking above each other and pots of coffee and tea in perilous equilibrium among packs of corn flakes, or croissant if they were feeling fancy. 

They were not feeling fancy. Jenny was eating corn flakes straight out of the box with one of the many monogrammed massive silver spoon, sitting cross-legged between her two other cousins, wearing her most tattered, faded Star Wars t-shirt. So faded, in fact, that the only reason Benji could recognize it was that he'd gifted to her for her sixteenth birthday. Michael was drinking straight black coffee out of a wine glass, which apparently helped it cool faster, typing on his phone with the scrunched eyebrows indicating an especially fierce twitter debate. Why he was wearing a suit and a tie, Benji could only guess. Rachel was sleeping with her head on her folded arm, snoring lightly on her daughter's giraffe cuddly toy. 

They were all close in age, with Michael as the oldest, then Jenny and him, and finally Rachel, the baby of their generation. All of them were single children, maybe because his mother’s sibling had suffered all the pains of living in a large family and had decided not to inflict it upon their own offspring. It had brought them together, in a way, creating a sense of belonging to their own little tribe that they hadn't had anywhere else. Not that he'd suffered too much in high school, but it hadn't been the favourite time of his life. He'd worked hard at not being too geeky, too uncool, too gay. Even Michael, who was the popular one, still relaxed when they were together, reading Jenny's romance novels and arguing with Rachel about comics.

"So, Ethan... This is Michael, the weird one is Jenny and the sleepy one Rachel. Everyone, this is Ethan."

This was enough to wake Rachel up, make Michael put down his phone and stop Jenny from eating. He wasn't sure he enjoyed the attention. 

"You look even more handsome now that I know you aren't a burglar," Michael said.

"Shut up, Michael," Benji said, death in his gaze. 

Michael was a financial analyst at a powerful London bank. He was also very rich, a fact he didn't think Muriel ever fully forgave him. Benji didn't particularly resent him for it: Michael was the one who had paid for the roof to be repaired, and as far as he knew he was neither dodging taxes or hunting babies for sport. The months he spent travelling across the world, breaking contact for weeks at a time and only ever describing his activities abroad in very brief details had made it a running joke between them to say he was a spy, even though Benji was fairly certain he was simply working for NGOs and didn't want to brag about it. He could see it: Michael was handsome, well-dressed, athletic. He looked as much as spy as anyone possibly could without being Sean Connery. Or at least, he looked more like a spy than Benji, a fact in which he privately took much delight. He was also unrepentantly blunt.

Could they not try to be a bit less weird? God, what was Ethan going to think? He knew it didn't matter, not really, but he desperately wanted him to like them.

"Thank you. I'm very honored to meet you all," he said, with a wide smile.

"Erm... What do you want for breakfast, Ethan?" Benji asked, before his cousins could embarrass him any further.

"A cup of coffee is fine, thank you."

Clanking cups and plates as loud as possible in the vain hope of drowning whatever strange noise his family was making at the moment, Benji set the table for the both of them, grabbing a mix of fruit, yoghurt and cereals. He gestured to Ethan to sit down as he poured coffee in the least chipped mug they owned, and tea in his favourite Spock mug. 

"So, Ethan, do you often break into people's house?" Jenny asked, looking mildly interested.

As kids, they had banded together against the older Michael and the younger Rachel, sneaking their first smokes in the garden and crossing five miles of field together to get to a party organized by a boy Jenny liked. Since the previous week, her hair were black again. He liked it on her. One time, she'd managed to convince him to let her die his hair blue, which he'd endured in the futile hope to impress a boy. It hadn't worked, but the pictures were memorable. And she was a pain, sometimes. 

"I try not to. I'm very sorry for the disturbance. I woke everyone up, didn't I?"

"Well, I don't think you woke Binky up," Rachel said, ignoring Ethan's contrite expression.

"Binky?" 

"Our pet hamster. He died twenty years ago. And he didn't break in, I gave him a key!" Benji interjected.

"Do you often give keys to the family manor to strangers, Benji?"

"It's not a manor, Michael, and he's not a stranger. We've known each other for ages."

"Oh, do pray tell!"

He knew what they were doing. They weren't as blunt as Muriel, but there was no mistaking: this was an interrogation, and they wouldn't let them go until they were satisfied. He took a large gulp of tea, and braced himself.

"We met at work a year ago, and we've been dating eight months now. I wanted to surprise Benji here, but my plan was a bit flawed," Ethan said with a charming laugh.

Eight months. That was a good pick. Long enough to explain he'd travel to see him, not so long that it'd be suspicious if they didn't know something about each other.

"It's not that long. How do you know he's not a killer, Benji?" Rachel said.

Ethan tensed.

"You were telling us Owen was the man of your life one week after meeting him, Rachel. Don't talk to me about going too fast!"

Rachel was the real adult, the one with a family and a settled job. She'd met her husband at uni, they had married and been disgustingly happy since then. Owen must have taken the kids for a stroll, since his two wonderful nephews were nowhere to be seen. Or heard. He loved them, but god could they be loud.

"Are you the man of Benji's life, Ethan?"

For the first time, Ethan's perfect facade dropped. He looked as scared as Benji had ever seen him.

"I..."

"Stop badgering him! This is why I never bring anyone home!" Benji interrupted. He tried to stop the edge of fear that was bleeding into his voice, but his heart was just beating too fast. He didn’t want to hear it, to fake his way through this.

Ethan turned to him, looking straight into his eyes. He nearly looked sincere.

"I'm not sure I can make any promises," he said, taking Benji's hand. "But I'll be there as long as you want me to be."

Benji couldn't bear it. He looked away. 

"Oh, that's so sweet! You look alright, Ethan." Count on Jenny to always break the moment. For once, Benji was grateful.

"He really does, doesn't he?" Michael weighted in. "But we have a large property. Lots of place to bury a body"

Benji rolled his eyes.

"Oh, this is for your own good, Benji, so stop it. What I'm saying, if you hadn't caught my drift, is that you better treat my lovely cousin with all the respect he deserves."

"I had caught that. And I'll try my best."

"Great! Now that this is done, how do you feel about camping?"

I don't think I've ever been camping for fun," Ethan said. "Why"?

"Hasn't Benji told you about our annual camping trip to the Lake District? What a shame," Michael said, eyeing Benji.

"I don't think he has."

"Well, it's wonderful!"

"It really is. We sleep in tents, grill sausages and marshmallows and weird berries we found, and throw each other in the lake. The colder the better," Rachel said, her smile full of mischief to come.

"Do you have any allergies?" Jenny asked.

"Not that I know. Muriel asked me this yesterday, too. Why...?"

"Owen is allergic to peanuts and he nearly died the first time he came for supper," Rachel answered. "I don't know how long you plan to stick around, but we figured it'd be for the best if we didn't kill you."

"Thank you. Do all of you go every year?" Ethan looked curious, as if the prospect of family vacations was somehow foreign to him.

"We try. Last year, Muriel couldn't come because she'd just had her hip replacement, and my mum isn't that much a fan of camping, so not everyone is there every year, but there's still always a good few of us. Benji has skipped it a few times now, but if you come he won't be able to avoid it!" Michael said.

"I'm sorry, it's the job! But you know I really want to come, I'm just not sure I'll have the time. Who else is there to scare you to death when I'm not there?" Benji said, smiling. He missed those trips.

"Oh, Ethan, do you want to see pictures from the time Benji fell in a bog?" Jenny asked, already scrolling through her phone.

Ethan laughed.

"You fell into a bog?"

"Yes, and it wasn't pleasant, let me tell you. And this monster there took picture instead of helping Rachel pull me out." He tried looking offended, and then broke into a laugh.

Jenny passed her phone to Ethan, who smiled when he saw the image.

"It's a cute picture! You look so young. When was that?" 

"Fifteen years ago," he said. He knew Ethan was thinking the same thing he was. It had been the last camping trip he'd been on before leaving for the IMF. Before meeting Ethan.

"Are you saying Benji looks old now, Ethan?" Jenny said, in mock anger.

It made Ethan blush. 

"No, of course not! You only grow more handsome," he said sheepishly.

They laughed. Even Benji couldn't help it, seeing Ethan trying to climb out of that hole, smiling and talking with his family. It was... nice.

He shook himself. This wasn't real. None of it was. No matter how much he wanted it to be. 

"Alright, that's enough. If you're finished with breakfast, Ethan, maybe we can go?" he said, trying to hide the sadness that had just nearly overwhelmed him. 

They put away their dishes, said bye to everyone, and left the kitchen, before standing in the hall for a few seconds, unsure of what to do.

"Do you want to see the roof? You can access a flat part of it when you go out the library's window," Benji said, on an impulse.

He didn't know why he said that. The roof was his place, the one he went to when he wanted to be alone. When he needed to cry. Even his cousins left him in peace, when he was there.

"I'd love to."

They climbed up the stairs, Benji taking a blanket from his room on the way. He'd spent long enough there to know that the cold metal of the roof was the fastest way to a frozen arse. He went through the window first, Ethan following him closely.

"It's not as perilous as your usual climbs, but the moss is a bit slippery. Be careful," he said.

They settled on the roof, the blanket underneath them. Benji loved the view from there.

"I'm so sorry for them," Benji said, breaking the silence, trying to stop reliving the most mortifying part of the exchange.

"Don't be. It's been..." Ethan seemed to struggle to find the right word.

"What? Embarrassing? Don't get me wrong, I love them very much, but I know they can be a lot."

"What I meant is that it has been wonderful."

Benji chortled. He'd have told Ethan he didn't have to be so astonishingly kind of his dear weird family, had there not been an edge of sincerity in his eye, as serious as a bullet to the head. He straightened, and waited for Ethan to speak. If he wanted to.

It was now Ethan's turn to look mildly embarrassed. He ran his hand through the trim of the blanket, not quite looking at it, but keeping his eyes firmly away from Benji's. The sunlight hit only half of his face, turning his skin golden and his hair copper. It would have been peaceful, had his brow not been furrowed.

"It wasn't like that for me, not for a very long time," Ethan said. A blackbird flew away from the pear tree, its call echoing through the garden. He followed it with his eyes until it disappeared beyond the hedge, rustling a few leaves on the way. He still wasn't looking at Benji

"We were never a huge family. And after my father died, it was just my mother, my uncle and me." He stopped, taking a long, shallow breath. "My uncle died when I was in jail in Moscow, and my mother eight months later."

"God, Ethan, I'm sorry. I should have kn..."

"You didn't know because I didn't tell you. Not your fault. I was able to go to the funeral, at least."

Ethan was still fidgeting with the blanket, if anything even with more application than before. His shoulder were still tense, heavy with a weight Benji could only guess. He didn't know what to say. 

He put his hand on Ethan's shoulder. 

"She thought I hated her." The words spilled out of Ethan's mouth like poison.

"No matter how much I told her that I loved her, that I wasn't angry, she never believed me. I mean, how could it not sound like a lie?"

There wasn't just sadness in Ethan's eyes, clouding his gaze like a veil. There was despair. There was anger, regret. 

And hatred. 

"I couldn't explain why I never visited, ignored her calls, disappeared for months at a time, worrying her sick... And what kind of son behaves like that? Of course she thought I hated her. It broke her heart that I missed Uncle Donald's funeral." 

Ethan shook his head, closing his eyes. Smiled. Benji hadn't ever seen a smile that pained.

"She tried so hard, every time we saw each other. You know we struggled, after my father died, right? He had this gold watch, I loved it when I was a child. It had moon phases, and I'd spend hours looking at it, hoping to see them turn. She sold it to pay for his funeral. The first time I visited after I turned forty, she gifted it to me. I don't know how she managed to hunt it down, or how much she had to pay for it, but she did. Just because she remembered that I had loved it thirty years ago. As if it was the thing that would finally make me stay."

He laughed a little. At least, Benji though it was a laugh. 

"It's one of the reasons being with Julia was so wonderful. For the first time since leaving for the Army, I didn't have to lie to her. But I couldn't tell her. Not after... When I was starting out as an agent, she and my uncle were arrested because of me. They weren't hurt, and it was all explained away as a misunderstanding, but it could have been so much worse. You've seen what can be done to someone," he said, looking at Benji.

Benji knew exactly what he meant, no matter how much he wished he didn't. From all the times they had been too late.

"I always dreamed... of being there, at the end. So I could tell her why. Tell her that I loved her, and that it wasn't her fault. That I was sorry."

He smiled, faintly. It faded.

"I was in Washington when I got the call. She had died in her sleep."

Benji hugged Ethan. It was the only thing he could think of, the only thing he could do. Ethan let him.

He thought, very carefully, about what he would say.

"You're a good man, Ethan. The best I know. And if your mother knew, she would have been so proud of you. I know that it doesn't change anything, that there's nothing that I can say that can make it better, but..." He closed his eyes, trying to find the right words. "You did your best. And it's not always enough, I know that, but you did so much good, saved so many people. You even saved me!" Benji let out a small laugh, and went on, quieter, softer. "You were protecting her, the only way you could."

Ethan didn't say anything. Then, slowly, he put his arms around Benji, nestled his head into his shoulder.

"Thank you," he said, softly. “It means… it means a lot to me.”

They stayed like that until the sun faded behind the clouds, the first drops of rain announcing the coming storm.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry for the delay!
> 
> And I think it's finally time that I admit I have no idea how many chapters I'll need.
> 
> I hope you enjoy!

When they left the roof, chased by the first drops of rain, everyone was massed in the hallway, armed with umbrellas and raincoats.

"Ethan, Benji! We're going to the village with everyone, do you want to come?" Jenny asked.

"I don't need anything, and you? Do you want to go?" Benji said, turning to Ethan.

"I'm alright, thank you. Maybe you could show me around?"

"That big old ugly house? That would be my pleasure. Although I have to warn you, there might be spiders ahead."

Ethan laughed, then whispered into Benji's ear.

"Are they big enough that I'll need my gun?"

"You can't even imagine!" Benji chuckled.

"Ok, we'll leave you two lovebirds alone. Don't make a mess!" Jenny said, opening the door. Benji made a rude gesture towards her, Benji took Ethan's hand and led him upstairs. It was only for the show, of course. Not because every second he spent with Ethan made him love him more, or that he wanted to hold his hand forever. When they reached the top of the stairs and got out of view, he tried to force himself to let go. What would he say if Ethan asked what he was doing? He had no excuse, no explanation. Maybe he could hold it, just for a few seconds more, and say he hadn't noticed if Ethan said something? Yes. That would do. He felt his hand getting clammy in Ethan's. One more stairs, and they reached the attic door. Ethan's hand was still in his own, and Ethan hadn't questioned what the hell he was doing. Well, maybe he needed some human contact. Was friendly hand holding a thing? If it wasn't, it should be, he decided.

"Ready for the unspoken horrors of our attic? Generations of accumulated clutter, some of it forbidden in most European countries."

"I trust you to protect me," Ethan smiled, squeezing Benji's hand.

They went around the attic, fighting through piles of dust that had accumulated since the last time the house had burned down, and several spiders that Ethan refused to kill. He showed him the stuffed bear that had terrified him as a child after Jenny had trapped him there, and Ethan refused to laugh at his retelling of the months of nightmares that had followed. Well, at least Benji thought it was funny. Funnier that the dreams of Lane he'd been having recently, of the noose around his neck, squeezing, always tighter...

Ethan laid a hand on his shoulder.

"Are you ok?"

"Yes! Yes, I'm fine. Sorry for zoning out."

He'd been fine. He'd been fine since Ethan had arrived, so why was he shaking again? He jerked his hand away, praying he hadn't noticed. Ethan was looking at him. He needed to say something, do something. 

"Do you want to hear the story of when we found a gun in great-aunt Agatha's dresser?" he said, too fast, voice too high.

"I'd love to. How old were you?"

"Eight. Jenny nearly shot me. I'd never seen Muriel so angry, I thought she was going to kill us and bury our bodies in the garden."

"I'm happy she didn't."

"Yeah, me too. That gave me the chance to get shot at some more, how lucky!"

Ethan made a face.

"Come on, you get shot at twice a week, at the very least, don't give me that look."

Ethan hesitated an instant.

"It's not... it's not the same, when it's you," he said, without looking at Benji.

Benji felt his stomach drop. Ethan was scared for him. Ethan thought that he was weak. That he couldn't handle himself. Maybe even that he shouldn't even be in the field. 

Benji turned. 

"I think I need lie down for a bit."

"Are you ok?" Ethan asked, with a look of concern.

"I'm fine. I just didn't sleep very well."

"I'm sorry."

Ethan looked so contrite that Benji nearly regretted the lie. They went downstairs again, Benji pointing Ethan in the direction of the library before slamming the door of his bedroom behind him and collapsing face first onto his bed.

He shouldn't have run away. Ethan was probably worrying about him, again. As if he didn't have enough on his plate without having to babysit Benji. He'd nearly died back in Kashmir, he'd been in the hospital for weeks. If anything, Benji should be the one fussing around him. He didn't need Benji bothering him because he couldn't cope with a few nightmares. 

He flopped on his back, and covered his face with his hands. 

Ethan was right about him. He wasn't fine, and he wasn't getting better. He'd had what, a day and a half without having to run to the bathroom before his family could ask why he couldn't stop shaking, or pretending to feel sick when he knew he wouldn't be able to go through dinner without the feel of the rope burning into his neck, making him breathe so fast he'd nearly pass out. And he'd already been hoping that it was over, that things would go back to normal. What a fool.

He wallowed in his misery for half an hour, internally screaming at himself to get up all the while. With an immense effort, he sat up. Sure, Ethan was right. Maybe Benji wasn't strong enough. Maybe he didn't belong in the field. Maybe he was going to get hurt, one day. Well, he probably was, purely statistically. But that didn't matter. All that mattered was that he could stay with Ethan. And as long as he still trusted himself to help him, no matter how little, he wouldn't give up. He just had to prevent Ethan from seeing how weak he was.

Benji went downstairs and prepared two sandwiches that he took up to the library, where he found Ethan absorbed in a thick, leather-bound volume.

"What are you reading?"

Ethan looked up.

"I can't believe you guys have that here. It's a copy of the first edition of Newton's Principia."

"Do you even read Latin?"

"No, but there was a dictionary on the shelf." 

Ethan's eyes were shining with enthusiasm.

"I'm so sorry, I let you do everything," he said when he noticed the plates Benji was holding.

"No worries. Ham, is that ok?"

"Of course. Thank you very much."

They ate quietly, Benji listening to Ethan talking about what he'd read and in turn telling him more about his family's history. It felt familiar, as if this was something they always did and always would do. Just a normal couple, chatting over a shared meal, trading stories they'd probably already told a thousand times. Desperately, he wished that were true. 

"Do we need to do something?" Ethan asked, as he set his plate between two piles of book on the coffee table.

"No, we're fine. The other must have come back by now, so if you want some quiet, you should better hide out there."

"Do you mind if I..."

"Keep trying to learn Latin with some old, world-changing physics book? Be my guest. I'll have another go at that drive, then."

"Oh, alright. Of course." 

Benji got up, trying not to notice how the prospect of Benji breaking into that drive didn't seem to cheer Ethan much. It was probably nothing. 

When he came back, a few minutes later, Ethan was fully absorbed again, scribbling on a notepad and leafing through both books at the same time. Benji smiled, and sat on his favorite sofa by the darkened fireplace. He opened his computer and sighed silently. He didn't want this to be over, not just yet. He knew it was selfish, that the best thing he could do for Ethan was to free him from his obligation to stay stuck with Benji and his embarrassing family, but he couldn't do it. Instead, he spent a few hours finally working on one of his projects he'd had to abandon because of the Apostles, losing himself in the comforting cogitation of coding, writing line after line of algorithm. This, he was good at, at least.

Ethan's voice drew him out of his focus, making him raise his head.

"I'm sorry, what did you say?"

"Could you decrypt the drive?"

"No. Still not there, sorry," Benji answered quickly.

"That's fine. Really, don't worry about it."

Before Benji could turn back to his computer, Ethan spoke again.

"How do you do it?"

"I'm sorry?"

"How do you switch between what we see, what we do, and this? Don't get me wrong, it's wonderful that you're close to your family, but..."

Benji thought about it for a while, before answering.

"I come here to remind myself that I exist. That there's something more to me than just being an agent, a part in the IMF's machine. And don't get me wrong, the IMF is where I want to be, but they have a tendency to squeeze you dry. I don't know, maybe it's stupid."

"I don't think it's stupid. As someone who was squeezed dry, I can tell you you should try avoiding it."

"Sorry, sorry, I didn't mean it like that!"

"No, but you're right. Does it help you?"

"Sometime, it does. And seeing everyone forces me to think about other things than the missions, but..."

He didn't want to say it. Admit that it wasn't enough. Or maybe he wasn't enough. That he needed... He couldn't say it. He couldn't say he wasn't perfectly fine, because he couldn't bear to disappoint Ethan. He'd come here because he'd needed Benji's help, not to listen to him complain. And what if he really thought Benji was too weak to keep working with him?

"But nothing. I feel fine! Kashmir was a bit rough, but I'm alright now. A few days in here will do that to me, I'm not even thinking about it anymore!

"Really? I'm... very happy to hear that. When I heard what had happened..."

"Not thinking about it! I mean... I'm fine, I really am."

Saying it out loud nearly made him believe it. He prayed that Ethan wouldn't insist, that he wouldn't rip the thin mask of normalcy Benji had struggled so much to build. He wasn't ready to think about it again. Not without letting Ethan see. 

"Alright. I should apologize, then."

"What for?"

"For coming here, reminding you of everything. I should have let you enjoy your time away, not come barging in like that."

"Well, you had no choice."

"Sorry?"

"I mean... the drive. You said it couldn't wait, didn't you?"

"Yes! Yes, of course."

"And... anything I can do, really. I mean, what would you be without good old Benji lending you a hand?"

Ethan laughed.

"I'd be lost."

Why did he keep saying things like that? Every time, it was harder to remind himself that it meant nothing. And he was so scared that he'd start believing it did.

Because then there'd be no going back.

"I need to go help Muriel with the cooking. Feel free to do whatever you want, but don't touch the statues, they tend to fall on people."

"Ok. Is there anything I can do?"

"No! I mean, no, don't worry about it, we've got everything under control. Just relax."

"Alright. I'll go take a look at the garden, is that ok?"

"Yes, of course! See you later!"

Benji went down to the kitchen just as the light started to fade from the sky, great pans of shadows growing to engulf the entirety of the room. He turned the light on. He couldn't believe it hadn't even been a full day yet since Ethan had arrived, and he couldn't decide whether that was because it had gone by in the blink of an eye, or because he felt like Ethan had always been there, with him. As if he belonged there.

Muriel was already in the kitchen, chopping vegetables. Without a word, she handed him a bag of carrot, and he started washing them.

Ethan didn't belong here. He was going to leave as soon as Benji had decrypted this damned drive, and then everything would go back to normal. He wouldn't have to worry about letting him down, he wouldn't be able to do anything to let him see how much better Ethan deserved. There it was, the center of the problem that weighed heavy on Benji's chest. He loved Ethan. He wanted to be with him, to wake up by his side every morning. But Ethan was, well, Ethan, and there was no world in which he was ever enough.

"And why does my nephew look so deeply concerned? Is your beau's visit not up to standards?" Muriel asked, interrupting his spiraling thoughts.

"No, no... it's just..." Ah, what the hell? Muriel thought they were together already, so how could it hurt? "It's just that I really like him, and I feel like I'll inevitably mess it up and ruin everything."

"And why would that be? Why wouldn't it just be the start of a beautiful, beautiful story?"

"Because I always mess it up! And you've seen him, he's just... way better than me. One day he'll wake up, see that, and disappear."

Muriel suddenly stopped stirring her pot, and turned to face him. Her eyebrows were frowned, but her voice was soft.

"You don't mess everything up. You studied hard, went to a good university, got an excellent degree. And all of this even with your parent's death, and I know it wasn't easy for you. But you fought, like you always do. And now you have a career you love, a family that cares about you and that you can still stand, which is more than many people can say."

"Sorry, I know I'm being ridiculous," he said, avoiding Muriel's piercing eyes.

"I wasn't finished. And you're not ridiculous. It's normal to be worried, when you find something that is truly precious to you. What I want to say is that I can't promise you that it will last forever and be absolute bliss every moment of it, but if you think it'll make you happy, you shouldn't deprive yourself of it because you're scared it might end. Everything ends. But that's not what matters."

Benji thought he wanted to cry.

"And don't sell yourself short. You're the best catch out of all of my nephews."

"I'm going to tell them that, you know?" Benji smiled.

"Don't bother. They are well aware of it already."

Rachel came into the kitchen, carrying a large basket of apples and a few very crumpled flowers.

"What are you two doing?" she asked, carefully putting the flowers in a small vase.

"Cutting carrots," Benji answered.

"Giving vital love advice to my nephew," Muriel said, at the same time

"Oh, can I give love advice too?"

He didn't like the gleam in her eyes.

"No. Just help me with the carrots, will you?"

"Come one, you're nearly finished. Tell me everything"

"It's nothing, really. I just feel a bit self-conscious with Ethan. He's amazing at everything, did you know that? He-"

"Ok, stop gushing about your boyfriend. I diagnose you with a bad case of rose-tinted glasses."

"I know he's not perfect. But that's the thing. He's always been there for me, and I want to be there for him in the same way, but I'm scared that I'm not strong enough to do that."

"And what if you aren't? His shit isn't your shit. Do you want the wisdom I've gained after years of marriage? No one is perfect for the person they love, no matter how hard they try. You say things you didn't mean, or the wrong thing and make everything worse. You forget birthdays and anniversaries, and don't get the milk when you should have. It happens. You'll do it. He'll do it. But what's important, what's really important, is that you'll always try. Even when it's not enough. That you never let go of that need you have to make him happy. I don't know Ethan well enough to know what you think you need to be strong for, but you can't make what's bothering him disappear. But it doesn't mean you can't be there for him. And if he ever does anything less than that for you, dump him."

"Thank you."

"And have you seen how he looks at you? You'd think you were made of solid gold. Solid, diamond-encrusted gold."

"Oh, shut up, Rachel."

"No, I agree with her, Benji. Have you considered testing his love? Because I'm rather certain he'd slay a dragon if you asked"

"Yes! A very scary dragon, even. With flames and everything."

"Would it even be a dragon if it didn't have any flames? Can't you leave me alone?"

"Oh, why?"

"Because he doesn't-" 

Because Ethan doesn't love him.

"Can we speak about something else, please?"

"Alright, alright..."

The kept the conversation firmly away from Benji for the next half an hour, gossiping about old acquaintances and arguing about proper knife handling. Rachel was just explaining in much details how both of her children's night went when Ethan barged in, his hair swept by the wind and a gleam in his eyes.

Benji couldn't remember the last time he'd seen Ethan this excited.

"Benji! You need to come out, we can see the Milky way from here! The sky is so clear after the storm, I can't believe how well we see it!"

It was nearly unbelievable. There wasn't a hint of worry in Ethan's voice, no urgency but the one to go look at the stars. No fear, no heavy task burdening him. At that instant, Ethan was free. With all his heart, Benji wished it would never stop. 

"I mean... if you're not too busy, of course."

"No, he's not too busy. Go look at the stars with your darling, Benji."

"I'd love to," Benji said, his smile a perfect image of the one on Ethan's face. Maybe he was free, too.


End file.
